by Jim C. Hines
“King Laurence. He’s bleeding. Snow cut him with her mirror.” Talia shook herself, then swore in Arathean. “If she controls the king of Allesandria, she’ll have one of the largest armies in the world at her disposal.”
“We’ll send word to Laurence,” said Danielle. “How far to the palace?”
“Less than a day’s ride.” Gerta sounded distant. Her obvious fear jabbed Danielle’s heart. If they continued upon this path, Gerta would die.
No . . . Noita had foreseen their arrival, but she hadn’t seen Talia. She hadn’t predicted this. That future had already been changed. So could Gerta’s.
“What do we do about her?” Talia asked, waving her blade at Noita.
“Leave her.” Danielle pushed open the door. She called out with her mind, summoning their horses to the front of the cabin. She called to the birds as well, to carry a message to King Laurence.
Talia hadn’t moved. “There’s kindness, and there’s stupidity. She meant to kill us all. She helped Rose to poison Snow. She—”
“She failed,” Danielle said. “And she’s seen what will happen to her if we don’t stop Snow.” She gestured to Noita, who remained slumped on the bench. “She needs us to succeed.”
“Is that how you mean to rule Lorindar?” Talia asked. “Oh, sure, she tried to assassinate the queen, but that’s all right so long as she doesn’t do it again.”
“Which is more important, punishing her for what she tried to do, or saving Jakob and Snow?” And Gerta, if they could.
Danielle stomped through the cabin without waiting for an answer.
Talia could feel the pounding of her horse’s blood, fear making it pulse faster than usual. Even a day after leaving Noita’s cabin, with Danielle doing her best to calm the beast and allow Talia to ride, its eyes were wide, and it twitched and shook its head as if wanting to toss her free. Talia had switched horses twice, simply to make sure they didn’t exhaust themselves through terror.
“I could wear the cape for a time,” Gerta said, riding alongside.
Talia grabbed the front of the cape, instinctively pulling it tighter. “I’m all right.”
“Liar. I saw you scowling at Danielle when we left. The cape makes you tense. You’re always hunting.”
“Better the hunter than the prey,” Talia said. “Danielle was right. Noita’s no threat anymore.” Though it wouldn’t have taken much time at all to snap the witch’s neck and fling her broken body to the ground.
“Will the cape shield us if you take it off?” Gerta asked. “Tuck it away in your pack until we reach Kanustius.”
Talia tried to keep her annoyance in check. Did Gerta really think she hadn’t thought of that? “The cape has no life of its own.”
“So let me take a turn.” Gerta tossed her hair back, exaggerating the movement. “It doesn’t really match your complexion anyway.”
Talia laughed. “All of your magic combined with the wolf’s temper? That’s a bad idea if ever I’ve heard one.”
“You’re right, of course. Far better to let it continue fanning your temper until you lash out and kill one of us.” Gerta cocked her head. “Though you’re rather sexy when you smolder. It’s the eyes.”
Talia flushed. “Stop that.”
“Make me.” Gerta’s brows wagged, but then she sighed and looked away. “I’m sorry. I only thought, since the cape hid you from Noita’s visions . . . maybe if I were wearing it, that would explain why I saw nothing of my own future.”
Her matter-of-fact tone made Talia flinch. “Noita couldn’t see me, but she saw the rest of us. The cape might hide you, but from what Noita said, you still should have seen something.”
“So now you take Noita’s word?” Gerta snapped. “When did you become so trusting?”
“Gerta—”
“Or is it just me you don’t trust?”
Talia stared heavenward. “Can you blame me? You showed up in the most secure room of the palace—”
“Naked,” Gerta added, her anger vanishing as quickly as it had come.
“Yes, naked.” Talia scowled. “You were conjured by Snow White, who then kidnapped the prince and set off to conquer a nation. We don’t know how you were made, or to what end. Would you trust you?”
“I think so,” Gerta said slowly. “I have a very trustworthy face.”
Gerta’s expression was so serious Talia couldn’t help but laugh again. She nudged her horse sideways, grabbed a handful of snow from a low-hanging pine branch, and flung it at Gerta. Gerta ducked, grinning.
Unbidden, Talia found herself thinking back to those first weeks in Lorindar, and her growing awkwardness and confusion around Snow White. Talia had been young, lost, and furious with the world, but when Snow smiled at her, all of that had melted away.
“What do you think will happen to me if Snow dies?” Gerta asked softly.
Talia’s shoulders tightened. “She’s not going to—”
“You don’t know that.” Gerta nudged her horse ahead, squeezing through a narrow spot on the path where the trees crowded together. “We’re connected. Does that mean whatever happens to her will happen to me as well? Or can I survive alone, independent of my sister?”
“I’ve never understood magic,” Talia said, troubled by the direction of Gerta’s thoughts. How far would she go to protect herself? “What do you know of King Laurence?”
Gerta gave her an amused look, as if she knew exactly what Talia was doing. But she played along with the change of topic. “He was young when we met him. Cute, but a little too skinny for Snow’s taste. He grew up east of the mountains. The politics weren’t quite as nasty in eastern Allesandria, away from the capital. He’s a skilled wizard. Not as powerful as Snow, but trained since the time he could walk, like all nobles.”
“I hate magic,” Talia muttered.
Gerta laughed. “Says the woman blessed by fairies, wearing an enchanted cloak while riding horses charmed by her friend.”
Talia grabbed another handful of snow.
“Allesandria was founded by magic,” Gerta continued, smiling. “It’s in our blood. People from throughout the world come here to study spellcasting.”
“Talia!” Danielle had crested the hill. She was staring at a cloud of smoke in the distance, black against the gray sky.
Talia squeezed her knees, urging her horse forward. When she reached the top of the hill, she swore.
Kanustius, capital city of Allesandria, was on fire.
The flames spread in a perfect circle around the city, burning as tall as the palace walls back home. The flames were purple at the base, turning blue higher up. Violet sparks popped and flew from the ground.
“It’s all right,” Gerta said. “It’s supposed to do that.”
Danielle stared. “They set the city on fire on purpose?”
“Not the city. Only the wall.” Gerta pointed to the flames. “When we get closer, you should be able to make out the fence within the flames.”
“A fence?” Talia squinted. “Why?”
“Stone walls can be scaled,” Gerta said cheerfully. “It’s much harder to climb a wall that’s on fire.”
“It wouldn’t do much against cannons or catapults,” Talia said.
“Kanustius has other defenses.” Gerta gestured. “Two fences of flame circle the city. Each fencepost generates its own flame, adding to the wall. The Stormcrows can also manipulate the individual flames, sending them out like weapons to defend the city. In wartime, the entire outer ring can be used to repel attackers while the inner ring protects the people. Cannons and black powder don’t last long here. Nor catapults, for that matter.”
“Stormcrows?” asked Danielle.
“The magical branch of the king’s army,” said Talia. “Nasty fighters, but they rely too much on their spells.”
“How do you know that?” Danielle shook her head and held up a hand. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
“So what triggered the defenses?” asked Talia. There was no sign of any army. W
hat she could see of the clearing around the city appeared calm. Judging from the size of the smoke cloud, the gates had been burning for at least an hour.
Gerta’s smile faded. “Snow. They know she’s coming, if she’s not already here. Allesandria doesn’t take chances when it comes to magical attacks.”
“Will the wall stop her?” asked Danielle.
“I doubt it. She’s of royal blood.” Gerta sucked her lip as she stared down at the city. “The flame will burn anyone she brings with her, though. She’ll be able to enter the city, but there are other guardians protecting the palace. She won’t have an easy time reaching the king.”
Talia nudged her horse down the path. “Whatever secrets your mother left in the palace, we need to find them soon.”
CHAPTER 13
DANIELLE HAD GROWN UP WITHIN SIGHT of Whiteshore Palace. She had visited most of Lorindar, as well as four other nations, since her marriage to Armand. But Kanustius was easily twice the size of any city she had seen.
From the hills she could just make out the palace at the center. The architecture was similar to the palaces of Hilad, a design that always reminded Danielle of oversized toadstools pressed together. Every domed roof shone like gold. Given Allesandria’s wealth, it wouldn’t have surprised her to learn it really was gold.
The burning city wall blocked her view as they approached. Back home, small homes and businesses had sprung up outside of the city, crowded most closely at the gates, but here the clearing was empty. The snow had melted, turning the ground to mud. Steam rose from the earth nearest the wall. She could see stone towers positioned beyond the flames, little more than dark shadows. There would be lookouts watching the roads from within, no doubt. “How do we get inside? There’s no gate.”
“There is, but we can’t reach it unless the Stormcrows decide to let us through.” Gerta pointed to where the road met the fire. “You can see it behind the flames.”
Danielle pushed back her hood and wiped sweat from her brow. She squinted until she spied the rectangular framework in the flames. “You said the fire could be used as a weapon against intruders?”
“They say the wizard who founded Kanustius slew a hundred dragons by magic. He buried their skulls in a ring around the city, binding them to protect all who lived within.” Gerta watched the flames as if entranced. “I remember Mother ordering the fires raised once, when we were young. We were returning from the mountains, and she had heard rumors of a Morovan assassin. I remember thinking how pretty the sparks were. Snow used her magic to call one to our carriage, thinking to keep it as a pet. She burned a hole in her cushion.”
“What will it take to persuade them to admit us?” asked Talia. Her gaze flicked from one tower to the next as they left the protection of the trees. “They’ll have been watching us ever since we crested that last hill.”
Talia’s horse whinnied and stepped sideways. Eyes wide, tail compressed against her hindquarters, the mare backed away from the wall, ignoring Talia’s commands.
“Easy,” Danielle whispered. She stroked her own horse’s neck. She didn’t blame them for being afraid. If the heat was this intense, how much worse would it become when they tried to pass into the city? Only Gerta appeared unaffected, her hands tucked into her sleeves for warmth as she stared at the wall.
“We can walk from here.” Gerta dismounted and stepped away from her horse.
“Wait here, please,” Danielle said to the horses as she and Talia followed suit.
They started toward the gate, but made it only a short distance further before the heat grew too intense. Talia grimaced and said, “Subtle they’re not.”
“You thought we’d simply waltz into the city to request an audience with the king?” asked Danielle.
“You did tell him we were coming, didn’t you?” Talia cupped her hands to her mouth, then froze.
“What’s wrong?” asked Danielle.
Talia tilted her head to one side and sniffed the air. “Magic.”
Gerta laughed. “The three-story wall of blue fire gave it away, did it?”
Talia didn’t smile. She turned around, squinting at the trees behind them. She reached under her cape.
Gerta’s smile vanished as she grabbed Talia’s wrist. “Are you mad? Draw weapons here, in full view of the towers, and you’re dead. Not even you can dodge the Stormcrows’ magic.”
Talia scowled, but withdrew her hand. “So what would you suggest we do about them?” She pointed to the woods.
These wasps were bigger than the ones Danielle remembered, their buzz lower in pitch. She counted seven streaking from the trees. “Get as close to the wall as you can. They won’t like the heat.”
The horses ignored her. Between Talia, the wall, and the wasps, it was all too much. They nickered and galloped away, fleeing toward the woods. Danielle did nothing to stop them. The wasps didn’t appear to care about the animals. The horses were probably safer in the woods than they would be if they stayed here.
Talia snarled and jerked her sword free of its sheath. “The Stormcrows can’t kill us for defending ourselves.”
“They can, actually,” said Gerta, but she drew a dagger of her own.
Sweat stung Danielle’s eyes as she backed toward the flames. The wasps flew at chest height, fast as sling stones. They split into two groups to attack from both sides. Danielle ducked as they buzzed over her head and circled back away from the fire.
Gerta jumped back, yanking her cloak away from her body. A wasp clung to the material, its mirrored stinger tearing one hole after another.
“Don’t move,” said Talia. Her sword smashed the wasp to the ground.
Gerta yelped. One hand went to her ear, as if checking to make sure Talia hadn’t severed it. Talia simply grinned and swung at another wasp.
“You said the wall would allow Snow to pass, because she was of royal blood?” Danielle asked. “You’re her sister. Will the wall recognize you?”
Gerta bit her lip, her face pale. “I . . . I don’t know. If I’m truly Snow’s sister—”
“Do it.” Danielle shoved her away. “They can’t follow you into the flames. Stay within it as long as you can, until they’re gone.”
Gerta hadn’t quite reached the wall when the wasps regrouped for a second attack. Danielle braced herself.
Blue fire crackled through the air like the breath of a dragon. Smoke and steam exploded from the earth. Four of the wasps vanished in an eyeblink, blasted to vapor. The rest tumbled to the ground, their wings dripping to nothing.
Talia swore. Fire flickered on the edge of her cape. She threw herself into the mud, rolling back and forth until the flame was completely smothered.
The column of fire continued to burn a few moments longer, roaring almost as loudly as a living dragon. It originated from the top of the wall, arcing outward like water from a fountain. It died in much the same fashion, thinning to a trickle that fell back into the wall. Danielle jumped to the side to avoid small bits of flame that splashed down.
“Are you all right?” Talia asked.
Danielle nodded. Talia appeared unhurt, as did Gerta, who stood frozen at the wall as if uncertain what to do next.
“Snow knows we’re here.” Talia brushed mud from her cape, a futile gesture that only spread the dirt. “If she didn’t before, she does now.”
“You think her wasps were following us?” Danielle asked.
“More likely she sent them here as scouts. If she’d known where we were, she would have attacked already.” Talia peered up at the wall. “I want to know why Snow never built us something like this back in Lorindar.”
“She couldn’t,” said Gerta. “The raw materials alone would cost more than your kingdom is worth. The fence is made of—” She jumped back as a man stepped through the wall beside her. The fire splattered from his body like rain, hissing where the individual flames touched the earth.
He was clearly one of the city’s wizards, but he didn’t look like any wizard Danielle had seen
before. For one thing, he was wearing armor. The mail appeared to be made of gold and steel, the individual rings little thicker than wire. The gold links wove a swirling pattern like snakes converging toward his heart. His only weapon was an ebony-handled athame at his hip. He wore a black half-cape and matching trousers tucked into fur-lined boots.
He doffed a metal helm and gave a slight bow of greeting. He was slender and bald, his brown scalp shining in the firelight. Even his eyebrows had been shaved. He studied them each in turn, but kept most of his attention on Gerta. When he spoke, his words were calm, but firm.
“He’s warning us, ever so politely, that we’ll be killed should we attempt to fight or flee,” Talia said, never taking her eyes from the wizard. “His fellow Stormcrows listen from the towers. He wants to know who Gerta is and how she approached so close to the wall.”
“Be careful what you say.” Danielle glanced at the puddle where one of the wasps had fallen. A sliver of glass lay half-buried in the mud. “They may not be the only ones listening.”
Talia continued to translate as Gerta said, “My friends and I need to enter the city.”
“I’m sorry,” said the Stormcrow. “Those things that attacked you, this isn’t the first time we’ve fought them. They possess their victims. At least four Stormcrows have been turned, along with gods know how many civilians. We’re working to track them down, but we can’t risk letting more inside.”
“So you’re saying your magic can’t even show whether or not we’re infected?” Talia asked.
He almost smiled. “I sense no evil in you, but it’s the height of arrogance to assume none are powerful enough to conceal their spells from me. We prefer not to take the risk.”
“So instead you’ll wait for the next swarm to fly over the wall and attack your people?”
This time, his smile broke free. “They’ve tried three times. The flames stretch up as well as out.”
Gerta folded her arms. “Unless things have changed since my last visit, that cape marks you as an officer. You can communicate directly with the king, and he with you?”
